


Waking With You

by deeday



Category: No Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 11:43:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3935551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deeday/pseuds/deeday





	Waking With You

He walked in the bedroom, stepping softly over the hardwood so as not to wake her. Gently turning the door knob, the wood squeaked, and he moved even slower to keep quiet. He took tiny and soft steps towards the bed, noting the curtains tossed open and the blue comforter tossed haphazardly over the bed. The bright light of the midday sun illuminated the entire room but the girl slept on. He looked down at her for the first time that morning, now. She slept naked and on her stomach, he noted, as usual, dark brown hair cascading down her back, semi-covering the smooth, milky skin there. The colorful blanket barely covered her lower half, bum peering out under the quilt. The boy stood at her bedside, losing time watching the rise and fall of her breath. Almost subconsciously, he reached over and touched her lower back, her skin warm as if she had been laying by the sea forever. Circling his fingers over her back, he eventually kneeled down so as to be closer to her. Pressing his lips to her warm skin, he whispered things to her. Anything and everything. She listened so intently to him while lucid that even while sleeping the boy felt heard while he spoke. He kissed each finger and up her arm, her shoulders and neck, trailing down her back. Each damp press of his lips warmed and tickled her skin further. Once he reached the dip in her spine, swiping his tongue over her there, she began to stir. He knew when she was first waking, but continued on with kissing her warm skin. Eventually, she was awake enough to begin moving and she peered through hazy eyes, blinking through a slight hangover. Her eyes were the same warm brown as her hair, and he fell for her over again upon seeing those eyes each morning. She licked her lips, and she looked thirsty; he immediately gave her the water cup on her night table, knitting his fingers into her hair to push her head up to the cup. She swallowed it, more color coming back into her high cheeks as she became more awake. Leaning down, she tugged at the color of his faded grey t-shirt, beckoning him to come up and lay with her at the head of the bed. He pulled himself up to her height, peeling off his shirt and kicking his jeans off as he did, and tucked himself under the blanket beside her. The girl wrapped her arms around him, one draped over the soft line of his hipbone, the other cupping his neck, pulling it to tuck under her chin. Once his back was pressed to her front, she breathed into his hair, him sucking it into his lungs like the nourishment it was to him. She kissed the shell of his ear, whispering things to him. Anything and everything. And he listened to her so intently that she always felt heard. They each felt heard, loved, needed. They lay there together, each intoxicated on the presence of the other. He pet her hands that were tossed over his hips and chest now, stroking each kind digit, grazing the pads of his fingers over her thighs, little blonde hairs standing on end. He was her protector primarily, would defend her to his own, and anyone else’s, death. Yet sometimes, she tucked him in with her, his soft caramel fringe tickling her neck. These times, she would run her fingers up and down his arms, gently touching the softness of his tummy, tracing over the slight lines of his toned abdomen. She pet his hair and whispered to him, and she listened to his whispers. And they lay there, folded in on each other, for hours, days, weeks, months, years. Their temperatures seemed to balance when together, skins soft against the other’s, hair playing perfect patterns off the other’s faces. “I missed you”, he murmured, voice raspy with hangover and love for the girl whose arms he was in. They had been together the night previously, kissing earnestly and spilling vodka seemingly everywhere, but she knew what he meant by him missing her. It had only been one sleep, one passing moon, since they had been each other, save for their dreams. But she knew, knew what he felt, knew that each moment one was not with the other was a moment wasted, and she knew, knew with all her spirit and mind and body, that this was the purest sort of love. She knew it was the kind of love that made you want to be a better person, to be better for your love. She paused a moment, let his statement sit in the air. It was a loving pause, pregnant with affection. They each smiled as she kissed his neck softly, chastely pressing her lips to the sharp lines of his collar bones. “I know”, she whispered. And she did.


End file.
